A grey gleam of light struck the steps from above, recognised instantly as a reflection of day, as though some cover had been uplifted connecting this underground labyrinth with the clear sky.  A dim shadow touched the illumined rocks for a brief moment, a moving shadow uncertain in its outlines, grotesque, shapeless:  and then the daylight vanished as suddenly as it dawned.  There was a faint click, as though a door closed, while darkness resumed sway, the silence unbroken, but for the scraping of a step on those rude stairs.  The two guards below came to their feet, rigid in the glow of the lantern, their faces turned upward.  Then a man came slowly down the last few steps and joined them.

CHAPTER XXVII:  A DANGEROUS PRISONER

He was tall and thin, wearing a wide cloak about his shoulders, and high hat with broad brim.  Even at that distance it could be seen that his long hair was grey, and that a heavy moustache, snow-white, made more noticeable the thin features of his face.  The man was Mexican, no doubt of that, but of the higher class, the dead pallor of his skin accented by the black, deep-seated eyes.  He looked at the two men closely, and his voice easily reached the ears of the listeners.

“Who posted you here?”

“Juan Cateras, senor,” answered one.

“Not on my order.  Dias is watching above.  Did the lieutenant give you a reason?”

“The prisoners, senor.”

“The prisoners!  Oh, yes; those that Lacy had confined here.  Well, they will not be here for long.  I do not believe in prisoners, and because I do business with that dog is no reason why he is privileged to use this place to hold his victims.  I have just despatched a messenger to Haskell to that effect, and we’ll soon be rid of them.  Where is Cateras?”

“In the valley, senor! he went back down the passage with Silva after posting us here.”

“And the prisoners?”

“Occupy the two inner cells.  Merodiz here says one of them is a girl.”

“A girl!” the tall man laughed.  “That then will account for the unusual interest of Juan Cateras, and why he preferred being left in charge.  A girl, hey, Merodiz!  You saw the witch?  What sort was she?”

“An American, senor, young, and good to look at,” the other man explained.  “Her eyes as blue as the skies.”

“Good! ’tis not often the gods serve us so well.  I forgive Cateras for failure to report such a prize, but from now on will see that he takes his proper place.  She was here when we came?”

“No, senor; the two Americanos brought her; it was Silva and I who put her in the cell.”

“At Cateras’s order?”

“Yes, senor.”

“In what cell?”

“The second in the passage; the man who was here when we came has the one this way.”

“Caramba! this is all pleasant enough.  I will pay my respects to the lady, and there is no time like the present.”